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Some time before the day we now know as the occasion of Buddha’s Enlightenment, Siddhartha, prince of the Shakyas, approached his father. King Suddhodana was sitting on a woven mat when his son approached quietly and stood behind him, like a sentinel.
“Is that you, Siddhartha?” the king asked. “Then say what you want to say.”
“With your permission, father,” said Siddhartha, coming around to face the king, “I came to tell you that I want to leave the palace tomorrow. I want to join the band of ascetics that traveled through our town not long ago. I want to seek enlightenment. Please don’t oppose this.”
In this version of the story, told by Herman Hesse, Siddhartha doesn’t slink away in the middle of the night after seeing the three signs of old age, sickness, and death. In this version he stands, proud and determined, and asks for permission to follow his heart, his aspiration, knowing his father wants nothing more than for his son to follow in his footsteps. Siddhartha waits while King Suddhodana remains sitting, both of them silent as trees, and as unmoving.
After a long time, the king spoke. “I don’t want to hear this request from you again.”
In response, Siddhartha just stood quietly. His father rose and they faced each other.
“What are you waiting for?” asked the king.
“You know,” replied his son.
Indignant, the father left the room. He lay down but couldn’t sleep, and after an hour he got up and started pacing in the garden. When he looked through the window, he saw his son still standing where he’d left him. He didn’t move a muscle, he didn’t look around, he didn’t even seem to be waiting. He was just… there, and not there, as if a part of him were no longer in the palace. Upset, the father went back to bed, but still he couldn’t sleep, and after another hour had passed he again got up and went outside, and saw that the moon had risen. As before, he looked through the window and gazed at Siddhartha, his face calm though his body must have been screaming in pain.
Hour after hour the king went outside, traveling from his bed to the garden, and hour after hour Siddhartha stood, his whole body a sheer cliff, and only his knees shaking imperceptibly. When the first rays of light entered the room, King Suddhodana followed them and stood in front of the prince.
“Siddhartha, what are you waiting for?” he asked.
“You know.”
“Will you always stand that way and wait, until it becomes morning, noon, and evening?”
“I will stand and wait.”
“You’ll become tired, Siddhartha.”
“I will become tired.”
“You’ll fall asleep, Siddhartha.”
“I will not fall asleep.”
“You’ll die, Siddhartha.”
“I will die.”
At this, the king touched his son on the shoulder and said, “Go. Go into the forest, and when you’ve found peace, come back and teach me.”
And Siddhartha went. He went, leaving behind everything he’d known, with no assurance but the steady burning of his vow, until he found what he was seeking. I wonder if he knew, as he stood through all those many hours of the night, or later, as he was setting out on his own, having also left behind the group of ascetics he’d practiced with, what arriving would look like. I’m inclined to say no, since the imagined tends to pale next to the possible (when the possible includes liberation). Then again, maybe he could sense, in some deep recess of his being, the enormity of what he was about to set in motion, and that knowledge spurred him on.
Or maybe it was all very simple. Siddhartha made a vow, he sat down, and after getting up seven days later, spent the rest of his life speaking about what he’d seen. Maybe his “Just do it” was a much more insistent drive than any of us could ever conceive, at least for ourselves. I don’t mean to make light of the Buddha’s realization when I say this. On the contrary, I mean to inspire myself to not be stopped by my own doubts, my own ideas about what is possible or what I’m allowed to strive for in this life.
The great Indian teacher Dipa Ma would ask her students, “Have you let yourself inquire into what is true?” Not, are you practicing, do you see, have you realized, but have you let yourself look into what is true? Have you given yourself permission to be that brazen with your aspiration, that daring? As if in response, she would also teach, “You can do anything you want to do. It’s only your thoughts that stop you.” Maybe that’s what the Buddha thought to encourage himself as he stood anticipating dawn and his father’s response to his request: What would I do, what could I accomplish, if I didn’t let myself be stopped—not by my thoughts nor by anything in this whole wide world?
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Beautiful post - sometimes our biggest opponent is really ourselves and our self doubt 💛